


Feeling nothing; Feeling everything

by Wizardboy



Series: Sad Spies [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I refuse to believe Curt is fine, It was like 2am, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, So much angst, Suicidal Thoughts, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, almost, he doesn't quite go through w it but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizardboy/pseuds/Wizardboy
Summary: Curt walked out of Cynthia's office and, really, he didn't feel anything. He didn't feel real, just a body walking down a hallway without a purpose other than to do something. something other than standing around. Because what else was there to do?





	Feeling nothing; Feeling everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is SAD wow I'm sorry I hurt Curt. I didn't mean to, it just. Happened.  
> Trigger warning for Suicide and suicidal thoughts! Stay safe

Curt walked out of Cynthia's office and, really, he didn't feel anything. he wasn't relieved or happy or tired or anything. he was just... existing. He didn't feel real, just a body walking down a hallway without a purpose other than to do something. something other than standing around. Because what else was there to do? He and Tatiana had destroyed the last CHIMERA facility last week and he'd just quit his job. Cynthia wasn't happy about it, obviously, she'd really never be happy with his choices, but she somehow understood. She wasn't particularly surprised at least, and she hadn't even really yelled at him. So there wasn't much to do with his life. He could go back and live with his mom and be domestic and find a wife and have kids, but that sounded even less pleasant than staying with the agency. He could get his own place somewhere, it's not like he didn't have the money, and get a cat and relax?

Curt heaves a sigh, he isn't sure and that's more frustrating than anything. Because now he's just standing outside of the agency building looking utterly lost and confused, and really that's what he is. Lost and Confused. He was supposed to be Curt Mega! The amazing Agent Curt Mega, a man who made it out of everything alive and did the impossible like it was nothing, a man who could defuse a bomb in his sleep, a man who was talented and a damn good spy. A man who worked in harmony with his closest friend and work partner, Owen Carvour. His secret lover, Owen Carvour.

Curt keeps walking, his breathing suddenly labored. He doesn't know where he's going. Frankly, he doesn't care.

If Curt's being honest with himself, a rare occurrence, this isn't the first time he's felt like this. Lost, confused, empty. Really, he's been feeling like this for a year now. Since Owen died. And he felt like this before as well, when Owen "died".  What he was feeling now, though, was even worse than then. Because now not only was he left without a partner, he was left without purpose. He didn't have anything to return back to now that his job of destroying CHIMERA has come to an end. Before at least he still technically had a job. Albeit he didn't return until he was forced to, but he could have returned at any time he wanted. That's what Cynthia had said.

He does have a mom, his mind supplies, but it isn't a long lasting though. His mom may love him and he does love her, but she expects grandchildren, she expects him to marry Tatiana. He has Tatiana as well, but they will seldom see each other now that she has been hired by Cynthia and he no longer works. Phone calls can only count for so much.

It's quite pitiful. Curt is a 33-year-old man without a wife, children, a nice home, friends, or even a family really. Curt Mega is a 33-year-old man that owns 3 shirts, one of which was Owens at one point (he doesn't think about that too hard though) four pairs of trousers, one suit that has a blood stain on it, a jacket, and has a mom. The rest of his blood family he wasn't in contact with for years because of the agency.

Curt turns another corner; how long had he been walking? How many corners had he already turned? It all blurs together in his head, it doesn't matter anyway. Curt has no destination in mind. He's very dimly aware that he has reached some semblance of civilization, the agency building was only near a very small town. For secrecy, Cynthia had always said. Curt had always thought it would have been better to place the building in a large city, to hide in plain sight. Oh well, it doesn't matter now. 

He's walking faster now, although he couldn't tell you why if you'd asked. Maybe he wants to get away from the agency. Maybe he's running from someone. Maybe he's running from himself. Maybe he's running away from Owen. The thought of Owen. 

God, Owen.

Curt's not crying, but his eyes burn as he should be. He's walking even faster, it's probably considered sprinting at this point, and his breathing is coming absurdly uneven. He's out of breath but he knows it isn't from physical exertion, its from something much deeper, much more exhausting. His head is swirling and the building and people and cars are blurs and he can't think of anything other than Owen.

Owen with his stupidly overgrown hair that was soft between his fingers. Owens chocolate brown eyes that were so intense yet soft at the same time. Owens stupid fucking accent that was just so posh. The way Curt's name sounded every time Owen said it. The lips Owen used to talk to him. Owens lips doing other things. The way Owen used to touch him behind closed doors. He thought of the soft smiles and kind eyes that had been reserved just for him. The vulnerability Owen had shown him. He thinks about how Owen had been younger yet taller. He thinks about the way Owen called everyone Love. He thinks about when Owen called him Love, how it sounded different. He thinks about Owen.

It's suffocating and intoxicating all at once. Curt's imagination is running buck wild and it won't stop, he can't stop it. He doesn't want to stop it. It's terrifying and wonderful and exhilarating and God awful. The thought of Owen is killing him and keeping him alive all at once.

Curt stops running, suddenly. He's standing at a bridge. Far below him is an unforgiving and dark ocean. He always forgets that they're on an island here. It's American property but not many people know about it. He'd always thought that was strange. But Cynthia had said--Wait. That sounded familiar. His mind was repeating itself now. Even his thoughts stuttered and repeated like a broken record.

Curt looked at the ocean to try and shut his mind up. Maybe he could drown out the noise of his thoughts with the noise of the ocean. A dark ocean that was lapping at the pillars holding up a bride, an ocean that was both greeting and fighting all at once.

Maybe he could drown out his thoughts once and for all.

It's a startling thought, but it's welcoming in a weird way. Curt's thought about dying before, you have to think about it as a spy, but never in this context. He's always wondered how it would happen and if it would hurt and if Owen would be with him. He thinks about Owen a lot.

Maybe if he died he could see Owen again. Curt has never been particularly religious, considering his choice in women or really in his lack thereof. But he'd considered the afterlife a lot, the possibility of it. Because wouldn't that be neat? If you were lucky enough you could live in eternal happiness with your loved ones. Of course, Curt couldn't have that. Owen didn't have that. But maybe Owen didn't have to suffer alone again. Again.

Again.

The thought hit him like a freight train. He steps closer to the ocean. It looks more inviting now. Maybe the sun finally came out. It had been so rainy recently, but maybe that was Curt's imagination too. Who knew what was real and what was fiction anymore? Curt didn't. He hadn't for a year now.

His eyes still prick with heat but still, even now, Curt isn't Crying. He hadn't cried since Owen died. Well, "died". He hadn't even cried when Owen fell to the ground because of him.

Maybe Curt just wasn't letting himself cry. Guess it probably doesn't matter now. Does anything matter now? Probably not.

He takes another step towards the ocean. He had ways thought the ocean was pretty. Owen had always joked that they would get a beach house together once they could settle down. Maybe they can have a beach house in hell? He might as well find out. He takes another step. He's so fucking close to seeing Owen again.

"Curt?" Someone touches his shoulder and Curt nearly topples over the edge, but the same hand pulls him back and they're falling onto the ground. When had someone else got there? How long had Curt been standing there, looking at the ocean? Who knows. Who cares?

"Curt, what the fuck were you thinking? Curt? Jesus Christ," Someone slaps his cheek and suddenly everything is in focus again-when did it go out of focus?-and he's staring Tatiana in the face. There is a dull ache where she slapped him and her eyes are wide and terrified. Something's happened again. Of course, it did.

"What? What happened? Are you okay," Curt starts fussing over her, moving from where he fell on his ass. She isn't bleeding, which is good, and nothing looks amiss. She laughs, but he can't find any humor in it. It's a cold and lifeless laugh. It's unsettling. It reminds him of the way Owen sounded before he died.

"What happened? Curt, you just tried to fling yourself off a bridge is what happened! Are you," She looks him up and down and she looks more distraught than ever. Had he really made her that upset? "Curt, what happened?" God, if only he knew.

"Dunno," his voice doesn't even sound like his own, "I was just walking and here I was." Was that really him taking? Why did his voice sound like a stranger? He doesn't like it, maybe he shouldn't talk anymore. Oh shit, is Tatiana talking to him?

"Curt are you-" he looks at her again and her face distorts. Her words are cut off and her face turns sad and scared and Curt doesn't know what's happened, but she flings herself onto him. Curt is dimly aware that they still haven't moved from the floor and people are staring, but all he's focused on is Tatiana. Her arms around him.

When was the last time someone hugged him? Probably his mom. Maybe? When though? God, why couldn't Curt remember anything, his brain was all questions and no answers. He tries to focus on Tatiana again, maybe that'll make his brain shut up.

"Curt you're so fucking lucky" she sounds choked up, "you're so lucky I followed you. You didn't look well and I didn't plan of following you but I just. I knew something wasn't right and I just-God Curt." She hugs him tighter which reminds him. Curt slowly moves his arms and puts them loosely around Tatiana. He lets her words sink in.

A thought hits him. It's like the weight of a million bricks hits him all at once and his eyes stop prickling because he's crying now. He can't breathe anymore. He doesn't know when it happened but he's started to sob into Tatiana's shoulders and his chest is tight and his whole body aches. It aches with fear and hurt and heartbreak. It aches with regret and sadness and the need to release all the tension he's held for too long. He really hadn't cried in so long. See, the thought is this; Curt Mega had just tried to kill himself. And he almost went through with it, but Tatiana had saved him.

"I'm," Curt chokes out between the sobs wracking his body, "fuck, Tatiana, I'm so sorry. I'm so so fucking sorry, God" He keeps going like that like it's a chant that will keep him sane. Tatiana just responds by hugging him impossibly tighter and just lets him sob. They sit there for hours it feels like, although it could have been minutes for all Curt cares. They sit and he cries and time passes. The tears subside, eventually, they turn into hiccups and heavy breathing. Curt tries to find a voice to explain, but he can only muster;

"Owen," more tears slip down his face and they taste salty on his lips. He feels Tatiana nod.

"I know Curt, I know."

Curt walks away from that bridge and, really, he feels everything. He felt relieved and tired and sad and scared. He was existing but for real this time. It was a god awful feeling but Curt isn't scared.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this shitfest of angst


End file.
